Author's Corner
This ficlet was written for SessKagu Week 2022. The prompt for Day 1 was 'Enemies to Lovers'. Cover art by Tumblr user alum131.
Trigger warning: masturbation and smut.
FIRST LOVE
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Kagura was born to fight. She was made with malice, so her effortlessly cruel and conniving nature is no fault of her own. Her sins are the by-product of Naraku's unstoppable ambition. She is a weapon. Nothing more, nothing less.
Violence is her love language.
In the context of that statement, there is no one in the world she loves more than Sesshoumaru. His power eclipses hers by a landslide, yet she longs for the inevitable collision of their youki on the battlefield someday. He is wild, unpredictable, dangerous. He is all the things she wishes she could be, too.
She has tried to manipulate him into doing her bidding, but he sees straight through her as if her body is made of glass. He never takes her seriously. It makes her angry.
Peering down at her fingernails, she imagines using them to tear open his skin. Would he cry out in pain as his blood rushed out in rivulets? Or would he remain silent and emotionless? In her mind, his temper finally snaps, resulting in him twisting her arm and breaking it. She is breathless as he leans in and drags his lips across her throat, searching for an artery to sink his teeth into. It hurts, but without her heart, she cannot be killed. Not even by him.
A peculiar ache blossoms between her legs, and she shifts uncomfortably in her futon. Her skin burns as she reaches down and brushes her thumb against the swollen nub. The unexpected spark of pleasure makes her gasp out loud. Breathing hard, she rolls her hips. Her eyelids flutter and she bites her lip to stifle a moan. Pressure builds in the pit of her stomach like a bowstring being stretched to its limit. She is certain she will explode if it isn't released soon.
Sesshoumaru's detached expression enters her peripheral, and his dilated pupils glow in the darkness of the room, like fireflies suspended in time.
The coil in her stomach shatters and she clamps a hand over her mouth to muffle the mortifyingly loud sounds of rapture. Once her body has ceased its convulsions, she removes her hand and wipes it clean, then casts her gaze over to the spot where Sesshoumaru had been sitting, but he is no longer there.
She wishes he was.
Beneath the bloodlust, there is a feeling that she struggles to identify. It is small and fragile, like a baby bird still learning to fly.
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The months race by. Kagura has lost track of how often their paths have crossed now, but it is still not enough. Their conversations lack the bite they once possessed when they were on opposite sides of the same war.
They aren't allies, but they are enemies no longer.
He pities her. She can hear it in his voice when he talks to her, and she hates him for it. She feels the weight of his stare every time she turns her back to him and is dismayed to find that it is no longer riddled with contempt and loathing. His once fiery gaze has turned tepid and unfulfilling. Shame courses through her. She doesn't want his sympathy, nor does she need it.
His frosty demeanour has thawed considerably since the first time they spoke. She knows it is because of the child he travels with. The child who, despite everything she's done, waded into the rapids with the intent of rescuing her. Since then, Kagura has done everything in her power to assist Sesshoumaru's group of outcasts. From a distance, of course. She mustn't show her hand too early. If Naraku finds out what she is doing, it will mean certain death.
She maintains her facade for a while longer, until Kohaku's life is in danger of being snuffed out permanently. The boy has been a thorn in her side since Naraku reanimated him all those moons ago, but she has grown unexpectedly fond of him.
She can't just let him die.
Her involvement in Kohaku's escape is all the motivation Naraku needs to dispose of her. Her chest feels surprisingly heavy as her heart is returned to its rightful place inside her ribcage. Then, pain ricochets through her torso without warning. Bulbous tentacles penetrate her newly regained heart, expelling poison into her bloodstream. The pain is excruciating, but she can't say she's surprised. Her master has been waiting for this day for a very long time.
There is one silver lining, though. At least she won't die in chains.
She holds on long enough to land in a field of windflowers. Their cloudy white petals shiver as she collapses to her knees and clutches the gaping hole in her chest. When she sees that her fingers are slick with blood, she chuckles weakly, amused by her own impending death. The miasma must be making her delirious. She's always known it would end this way, but a part of her had hoped it would be Sesshoumaru dealing the final blow as opposed to Naraku.
Her mind conjures up an image of Sesshoumaru looming over her like a harbinger of death. She locks eyes with him and is taken aback by the sheer amount of sorrow in them. A smile pulls at her lips. She doesn't care if he is real or not. Whatever he is, at least she won't be dying alone.
Tipping her head back, she closes her eyes and draws her last breaths.
She is finally free.
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Or so she thinks.
When she wakes, the first thing she sees is a pair of golden irises peering into her own. Her breath hitches at the intensity in them. Glancing downwards, she sees that he is kneeling amongst the flowers and holding her in his arms.
Am I dead?
As if sensing her thoughts, Sesshoumaru lays a hand over her rejuvenated chest. The front of her kimono is badly ripped and drenched in blood, but the skin underneath is flawless. There isn't a single scratch on her. But how?
"Breathe," he whispers. "I have you now."
Her pulse quickens at his words. She briefly wonders why, but soon dismisses it as a side-effect of dying and being brought back to life within the space of a few minutes. "Is that a threat?" she rasps, arching an eyebrow at him.
His eyes flash. "If you like."
She chuckles softly, before reaching out to caress his cheek. Blood rushes to her face when his hand covers hers, filling her with heat. She's never been this close to him before—never wanted to be outside the throes of battle. Her stomach flutters as his eyes darken with something akin to desire. He wants her, she realises with a start. The knowledge makes her heart race faster.
"Sesshoumaru, I—"
He catches her mouth in a kiss. Meanwhile, the arm wrapped around her waist tugs her closer, crushing her breasts against his chest plate. Kagura kisses him back with all the fervour she can muster, but it isn't nearly enough to satiate her immense hunger for him. The bundle of nerves between her legs practically sings when he lowers her to the ground and shucks off his armour. With that out of the way, his lips descend on hers once more. He trails kisses down her neck before helping her unfasten her kimono. Freeing her breasts, he takes one into his mouth and sucks. She lets out a contented sigh and arches her back.
"More," she pleads, grinding against him wantonly.
His mouth travels lower, peppering kisses down her toned stomach and writhing pelvis. His destination is obvious. She moans when his lips finally close around her clit, and instinctively squeezes his head with her thighs. Her fingers pale in comparison to his tongue, which works her into a stupor. He removes it just as she is about to climax and meets her lust-filled gaze.
It dawns on her that he is asking for permission. How very unlike him.
"Get on with it then," she huffs.
She doesn't have to tell him twice.
He aligns their bodies and reaches into his hakama to stroke his hardened member. The windflowers tickle her nape as he frees it from its bindings and rubs the tip over her entrance sensuously. Opening her legs wider, she guides him into her. He is astonishingly gentle as he rocks against her, like a sailboat drifting leisurely through calm waters.
The urge to self-destruct dissolves when he cups her face and kisses her in an attempt to distract her from the pain—not that there was much of it in the first place. Liquid pools in her tear ducts and she chokes on a sob. She knows he has a compassionate side, but she never expected him to be kind.
"Come with me," he implores, increasing the tempo of his thrusts.
Her laugh transitions into a heady moan. "Naraku would never allow it."
"He has no power over you now."
The words evoke a new rush of euphoria that washes over her like a wave. He's right. The bastard cannot touch her. Not anymore. She is no longer his weapon, or anyone else's for that matter.
This is true freedom.
"Still. He won't – ah – let it slide so easily."
Sesshoumaru's eyes narrow menacingly, and she catches a glimpse of his fangs through his slightly parted lips. "Neither will I," he growls. "His death shall be my gift to you. The first of many. It would be my pleasure, Kagura."
The melodious sound of her laughter makes him groan, and his cock convulses inside her, confirming a suspicion she's had about him since the very beginning.
Violence is his love language, too.
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